Tall Tale No. 5

well I was born on a Sunday with blood on my hands
in a room full of photographs and old electric fans
and I slept in a graveyard for bicycles and cars
and I dreamed of distant scenery but never strayed too far
cause I do what they ask me
I never run my mouth
and by the time you turn against me
I'll have you figured out
and I learned to lie
by watching you turn to your enemies
and the apple you've got in your eye
has become a stain, you don't want it
so I left for the city as soon as I could walk
but the buildings loomed like sentinels, it wasn't what I thought
so I slept in your bathtub while you put your makeup on
and I daydreamed about your lungs til your cigarettes were gone
now I wrote cause I have to
I'm never welcome home
though this road leads to disaster
I've always got my songs
and I learned to laugh
by watching you burn all your photographs
and you're right that the good stuff won't last
but these wars are never won by our twiddling thumbs.
well I did what they asked me
I never ran my mouth
and by the time they turned against me
I had them figured out
and now I wrote cause I have to
I'm never welcome home
and though this road leads to disaster
I've always got my songs
I learned to die
by watching you choke on your misery
and if the apple is torn from my eye
well I won't be alone cause I'm going home